From European Gold to letting go of the dream
By Project RED-S Ambassador, Richard Goodman
In September 2011, I had just finished my A-Levels and chasing a dream - earning a scholarship to compete in the NCAA collegiate system. Before making a decision on which college to attend, I decided to take a year out to train as a full-time athlete.
For years, I had been in awe of the greatness of Kenyan athletes, so I seized the opportunity to spend three months training alongside them in their home environment. It was the most intense period of training I had ever experienced. I ran over 100 miles per week, with three hard interval sessions and long runs of more than 15 miles. The trip, at just 18 years old, gave me an incredible insight into their relentless training, disciplined routines, and simple but focused approach to life and sport.
When I returned to the UK, the benefits of that experience were clear. I easily qualified for the European Junior Cross Country Championships and came home with an individual silver medal and a team gold. My parents, coach, friends, and family had been behind me all the way, reinforcing my belief that I could achieve something truly special in the sport.
These successes helped me secure a scholarship to the University of Oregon — the first British athlete to do so in over 30 years. Before heading to Eugene, I threw myself into training, determined to arrive in peak condition. The coaches made it clear that if I performed well during my first year, my support could be upgraded to a full scholarship. That only fueled my desire to push harder.
I took everything I had learned in Kenya and applied it to my life in London. I remember flying through the first 15 miles of the challenging Finchley 20 at a blistering pace of 5:15 per mile, feeling like I could have finished with ease. My confidence was sky-high, and weekly encouragement from the Oregon coaches only reinforced my identity as a distance runner. I could not wait to begin this next chapter, until everything came crashing down.
Just weeks before my flight to Oregon, I suffered a femoral neck stress fracture. The pain in my hip was intense, and I could feel something was seriously wrong. My body, after months of overtraining and under-fueling, had finally given out. But I boarded that plane with my parents anyway, desperate not to let anyone down.
I flew to Oregon with my parents in tow. The coaches expected me to jump straight into training and racing. But I could not run. I didn't tell them right away, hoping I could push through it, but each attempt only made things worse. At night, my hip throbbed, and I prayed it was something minor that would heal quickly. At just 18, this was my first major injury, and it shook me to my core.
Eventually, an MRI and DEXA scan confirmed what I had feared: a stress fracture and severely low bone density. I was forced to stop running, and almost instantly, I felt disconnected from the team and coaching staff. I joined the program mid-academic year, which made it even harder to form friendships, and not being able to train made me feel invisible. The respect I had earned back home seemed to vanish in this new environment, and I struggled with a fading sense of identity.
I did find some comfort in cross-training and strength training was at least some way of maintaining fitness, but I was constantly fixated on wanting my injury to heal rapidly. And it didn’t.
Whilst the squad, full of elite athletes, were out there winning major races on the NCAA circuit, I felt more and more like a joke. Despite months of ‘being part of the team’ I had still made no close friends. The coaching staff had no time or patience for me, instead diverting their full attention to the healthy athletes raring to go.
In a desperate attempt to regain my rapidly fading athlete status, I rushed my recovery process. I cross-trained obsessively and as hard as possible with little regard for anything else in my life. I failed all my classes and to make matters worse, as the fall cross-country season came around again, I picked up my second stress fracture, and not long after that, a third. The dream was slipping through my fingers. I had been one of the best junior cross-country runners in Europe, but in the NCAA system, I felt like a nobody. In December 2012, I quit Oregon and flew home, broken both physically and mentally.
Fast forward ten years, and life looks very different. I am now healthy, strong, and surrounded by a wonderful circle of friends, training partners, my coach, and family. I also run a business called AthleteMannies, which keeps me on my toes in the best way. While I am no longer competing, I have found purpose and success in other areas of life.
I wanted to share my story for two reasons:
To highlight the importance of identity and self-worth in athletes.
To help young athletes learn from the mistakes I made.
Injuries are tough and the loss of identity and self-worth that can accompany them can seriously impact on our health and wellbeing. A loss of identity is belittling and destructive, yet regularly neglected in conversations about injury and rehabilitation. We must take care and educate ourselves better on how to cope with this psychological burden when we and other young athletes get injured.
Injuries are tough. The loss of identity and self-worth that often comes with them can be devastating, yet this side of injury is rarely talked about. We need to better educate athletes on how to cope with that psychological burden and create environments that support them through it.
If you, or someone you know, is struggling with injury or the mental load that comes with it, here are some tips that helped me and could help others:
Cross-train to stay fit and focused, but keep it balanced and fun with achievable goals.
Spend time building strength and flexibility while you are sidelined.
Stay connected to your teammates. Join them at training sessions, even if you are on the bike or helping time reps.
Keep communicating with your coach. They can still support you even if you are not racing.
Explore new hobbies and interests to keep your mind busy and avoid obsessive thoughts.
Most importantly, stay positive. You will not be injured forever, and if you give your body the time and care it needs, you will come back stronger.